FOR A TIME, Bandicut felt as if his heart really had stopped. There was no sense of motion, no sound; not even the quarx seemed to stir. Was he suspended in some pocket of reality where everything would remain frozen for eternity? But no . . . that could not be, if he was aware of his own thought.
And now he felt something, not outward but inward, as though his body were undergoing change. Decompression? Renormalization? He couldn't tell, but he felt comforted by the thought, and clung to it like a child's security blanket.
In time he noticed a slight movement nearby. Ik, just within his peripheral vision beside him, moving his head ever so slowly. And now he noticed his own chest expanding in glacially slow movement, breathing.
And some time later, he noticed that the stars, so pointlike in their diamond iciness, had blurred. Smudged.
And then Char spoke.
/// We're all . . . here . . .I think . . . ///
/That is good. All here./
Except L'Kell, their dear friend L'Kell. They had not even been able to say a proper farewell. What of the Neri people? And what of the Astari? And the undersea factory? And the Maw? They would probably never know, he thought. Never know.
It saddened him, and yet he felt curiously uplifted— reminded of those images that certain of the quarx incarnations had been fond of showing him as they described chaotic attractors to him: tiny forces kicking spinning, dynamic systems in unpredictable ways, their kicks resonating into the future like the reverberations of a plucked string. Had this company kicked some useful reverberations into the future of the Neri world? He wondered if the translators, or the Shipworld Masters, would keep tabs and find out.
The quarx's thoughts still came haltingly, from the time distortion.
/// Don't forget . . . you left . . .
four sets of stones . . . and an intelligent
stargate. ///
/A stargate,/ he whispered. /A dying stargate./
/// Dying, yes.
But perhaps not . . . for a few
hundred years. ///
/But belonging to someone else. Someone not of Shipworld./
/// Indeed, someone . . .
about whom the stones are . . . deeply concerned.
The Others. ///
/Is this what the stones promised to tell me about?/
/// Indeed.
The Others are a race
whose home lies far across the galaxy.
A race whose goals are inimical to Shipworld's.
To the stones'.
To your own peoples'. ///
/Humanity's? Earth's? Why do you say that?/
/// Remember the stars the Maw put out,
getting to where it was going?
Remember the comet that almost
put out the Earth? ///
Bandicut was silent for a moment. /Jesus./
/// Exactly.
But of details, the stones know little.
That's why it took them so long
to be sure of the origin of the Maw. ///
Bandicut absorbed that. /I wonder where the Maw has sent us. Not toward its creators, I hope./ To that, Char had no answer. He began to turn his head. It was like stirring molasses, but a little less so than before.
In time he managed to bring his head around to where he could see his friends. He discovered that Antares was closer to him than anyone, even Ik. She was looking his way. Almost at his eyes, but not quite, as though she had just begun to glance away from him to gaze into the mysterious infinity of space, wondering also where they were bound. He began to raise his left hand. It felt as though it were floating on a slow-rising bubble, not requiring great effort, but incapable of moving fast, regardless of the force he might apply.
He noticed that her hand was moving, too.
By the time their hands met, her lips had parted in a Thespi smile. Her eyes shone with puzzlement and uncertainty. As their hands touched, and their fingers slowly clasped, he felt her presence within him, in a way that reminded him of their joining through the stones. He felt in her a stalwart companionship, and intimacy, as if they had traveled through danger together for years; and yet also an electrifying alienness. And she touched not just him, but Charlie, too. Char. What connection had they made? He was startled to realize he didn't know, and perhaps couldn't really fathom it if he did know.
What was Antares to him now? Friend? Lover? Stranger?
It was still being worked out, he knew, not just in his mind but also in hers. And as he slowly, slowly squeezed her hand, he felt the memory of Julie rising in him, and with it a tide of sadness. And yet, he thought, she would be glad; she would want me to take the chance. I think. I hope.
/// You, John Bandicut,
are a complicated . . . person, ///
the quarx said slowly, in a tone that he thought was approval.
He started to think of an answer to that, but was interrupted by a feeling, almost a verbal thought, from Antares. You are, and I am, and we shall see. In time we shall see.
But before he could answer, he became aware of something changing around them.
*
There was a faint crinkling of the starfield, as though it were embedded in cellophane. An instant later, a shock wave hit the bubble, and it shone blazing golden around them, and for a moment it seemed as if their own bodies were filled with an interior light. Bandicut felt a quivering sense of release, and realized that the molasses was gone; he was left in near-shock, but he could move and breathe normally again. Had they arrived, were they arriving somewhere?
*Star-spanner beam intercept.*
He blinked. /Huh?/
"John Bandicut," said Antares, "I—"
/// The stargate's transport effect
had been interrupted. ///
/By what?/
/// By a star-spanner beam. ///
/From Shipworld?/
/// Presumably. ///
/I'll be . . ./ He peered at Antares, who appeared to be listening to her own inner voices—and then at Ik, whose eyes were alight with inner fire, and at Li-Jared, whose head was snapping back and forth as he tried to take in everything at once. The stars were no longer visible through the bubble, though whether it was because they were gone, or just because the inside of the bubble was bathed in light, he couldn't tell.
"Did you all hear that?" Bandicut asked hoarsely of the others. "We've been grabbed by Shipworld, from wherever the stargate was sending us. I think—I hope we're out of the Maw's sphere of knowledge and influence—"
*Affirmative. Course alteration in progress*
He cocked his head, waiting—and thinking, /Course alteration back to Shipworld? Or to somewhere else?/
He heard a clicking and tapping from the robots, and Napoleon chirped, "Cap'n, I believe we have a transmission coming in. I'm attempting to translate to audio."
"Transmission coming in?" Bandicut asked in disbelief. "Coming in from where?"
"Uncertain, Cap'n. Shipworld, I assume. Here it is—"
A voice was speaking to them in English. English! And it was in a slightly metallic tone, as if coming from an artificial source. Like a robot . . .
"Congratulations on your successful departure. I look forward to your return, and to meeting you. My name is Jeaves. If you can hear me, then you know that the intercept by the star-spanner beam has been successful. Godspeed, and drive safely."
And with that, the voice fell silent. Around them, the bubble began to change to flickering rainbow hues, and the stars became barely visible again, stretched and blurred into short, angled, moving streaks of light.
Bandicut looked in amazement at Ik, Li-Jared, Antares. "Was that voice speaking in your language?" she whispered. He nodded.
In time we shall see.
In time. Indeed.
—Continued in Book 4 of THE CHAOS CHRONICLES:
Sunborn—